Reincarnation
by CretianStar
Summary: Have a little Angel-Molly trying to protect a hapless Sherlock from the demon-Moriarty. Inspired by Grenade by Bruno Mars. Complete
1. Grenade

A/N: Okay this might be a little confusing and if it is please do tell me, but I am whacking up all four chapters now!

This little thing was inspired by Bruno Mars "Grenade", have an angel Molly.

* * *

 **I'd Catch a Grenade For You**

There were a lot of things Molly didn't understand.

The one thing she did know was that she was put on this earth to protect Sherlock Holmes.

If she failed in this she would perish eternally. But if she succeeded she would be brought back to his side. Every single time.

She was stood in Kabul watching Sherlock lurk around the edges of a building before slipping inside the door.

Tightening the fabric in front of her face she knew women were not allowed inside the building and sat on a bench within sight of the door which Sherlock entered and began to sort pulses. It was a job to keep her hands busy whilst her mind was free to worry over the smallest of details.

When Sherlock finally exited she had to double check it was him. He was bound in a black garment but it was the gleam of his eyes as they gazed across the busy square that gave him away.

She would then shadow him for as long as she needed until they reached a gathering of cars. They were not too far out of the closest village, a group of four black clad men met Sherlock in his garb at the edge of the market square and led them out further, Molly trailing them in the twilight shadows. The cars headlights were upon a small kneeling figure that Molly did not worry over; she was not here to protect anyone but Sherlock. But unlike the busy market square Molly could not blend into such an open area but thankfully none of the men seemed to notice her.

She watched as her black robed detective lifted a sword to a woman she did not know before appearing to change his mind and swing it onto one of the men that stood by the cars. Only he could think that one traditional sword would beat four men with sub-machine guns and _grenades._

Molly moved without thinking as the missile was hurled at Sherlock. Her body caught the device and everyone seemed to freeze at the new player. Sherlock stared in horror as her veil had slipped revealing her chestnut red hair but Molly said nothing. She smiled softly before taking the device and running as quickly as she could further into the desert.

She heard his shout but felt nothing when there was a final _ting_ from the grenade.

~M.H~

She opened her eyes as there was Sherlock, smiling at her winningly. He must have asked her something.

"Sorry Sherlock, what did you say?" She shook her head and he seemed to tut, quietly enough for John to miss it but just enough for her to hear it.

"I said I like the lipstick you were wearing earlier, do you fancy a coffee?"

Her heart raced. Every life she sacrificed meant being one step closer to Sherlock; that's all she could presume, her lifestyle didn't come with a manual or instructions.

"Ehh sure?" She squeaked.

"Great, just a dash of milk, no sugar thank you." He turned back to his microscope ignoring John's huff of exasperation.


	2. Blade

A/N: Have a second parter, I hope the italics is clear! If not again, drop me a PM and I'll try to sort out the layout!

These are not meant to be long drawn out chapters. They're snappy little one shots.

* * *

 **Throw My Hand On a Blade For You**

Sherlock was in danger.

She could sense this stuff now. (He was in danger a lot)

Gabbling to Mike she had to run out of the double doors, hurling herself up the stairs and dashing onto the street outside the hospital. Closing her eyes, Molly oriented herself and felt Sherlock was close.

The park.

Speeding off in the direction of her favourite park she thanked heavens she neglected the slight wedged shoes she favoured in summer and gone for her trusty flats. She heard the scuffle and swearing and threw herself into the fray.

"What the fuck?!" There was a gruff voice she didn't recognise and in the semi-darkness of the evening she couldn't really tell who was who. She just fought to tear the pair apart. She worked it out when there was a burning pain in the centre of her palm and she held back the screech of pain. Instead she threw her weight against the shadow wielding the knife and was satisfied when he fell back.

It only seemed to renew his efforts and there was another searing pain in her stomach this time. Staggering back she allowed herself a well aimed kick at the man's genitals, the satisfaction of his howl of pain was the last thing she felt before she blacked out. The last thing she heard was Sherlock's questioning tone, "Molly?"

" _Nice try Angel but you aren't going to win this."_

" _Who's there?" Molly's deaths were normally seamless into her next life but something had given her a transition._

" _You're not going to save him permanently angel, he's got too much of the dark in him, it practically calls to me." The voice that sang to her was lilting and high, it brought goose-bumps on her arms and she shivered in the pitch black that surrounded her. It didn't matter whether she opened or closed her eyes, nothing changed._

 _It reminded her of the change she underwent for Sherlock. When she had been saving souls and had the misfortune to clap eyes on him. Angels occasionally lowered themselves to become mortal for love. The Mother said it was the purest form of joy but Molly had yet to feel that. All she did was save the stupid man._

 _Now there was a contender for Sherlock._

 _Someone with ill intentions._


	3. Train

A/N: Turns out if you write 5 chapters in one document then attempt to segregate them out afterwards it's incredibly difficult and you delete a chapter. It's infuriating but have this one.

* * *

 **Jump in Front of Train for You**

"Sherlock the tubes are running up and down here all the time." John grumped as he walked the lines with his annoying best friend.

"I'm sure we'll be fine." Sherlock ignored any more complaints the good Doctor made, his eyes trained to the tracks before him, not really paying much attention to anything but the search. A serial murderer always made Sherlock jovial but this one had taken seven lives without Sherlock knowing who it was or how'd they done but the one thing that was in common was the train. There was always a train link involved; even as something as miniscule as the train sticker on the shoes of the last victim or the tube map in the pocket of the fourth one. It had taken three hours in his mind palace to finally place the common factor between the seven. As a result Sherlock was feeling grumpy and determined.

So determined, that he didn't notice John stopping, or stepping back, ears cocked for a train. He didn't notice Molly come running along the tracks, he barely heard John's exclaim of surprise before the pathologist forcefully shoved him off of the lines to the gravel side before the train hit her with full force.

"Molly!" He cried, looking at her lifeless body as the train finally juddered to a halt. He ignored the dark haired driver's shouting and cursing, he only saw her broken form, colour and life leeching away from the woman who had saved his life twice now. She was the One That Didn't Matter as far as his enemies had been concerned, now she very much mattered and it was too late for sentiments.

" _Did you think you could save him angel?"_

" _I wish I'd known what you were." Molly spat at the face illuminated before her. The pair swum in this transition period, he grinned down at her and she scowled._

" _You will not win him angel, he's mine ALL MINE!" The maniac screamed and she smirked._

" _Getting jealous are we?" She grinned almost lazily, feeling the pull of the next life._

" _Until next time, I'll deal with you personally." He growled and the blackness faded._


	4. Bullet to the Brain

A/N: This is the chapter I deleted and I am furious that it's not the same, I'm not happy with this, I loved the original but this is the best I can remember.

* * *

 **Take a Bullet to the Brain**

"Just kill me James." She grinned, head resting against the stone wall as she was slumped forwards.

"Ohh Molly…" The sing song voice made her shiver but it was the dead look to his eyes that made her want to throw up.

"Can you not find Sherlock, Adramelech?" It was James Moriarty's true name. He was one of Lucifer's original fallen; one of the first demons to wreak havoc on humanity and a powerful foe, but Molly was more than willing to challenge him.

"Who knew **you** were so important to the moronic man, I thought you had given your wings for some mortal and yet I did not even think he would think of returning the sentiments! How short-sighted was I? But now I know his weak spot." Molly could hear the insanity tinging his voice but when she raised her eyes to meet his she was met with the barrel of a gun.

"Can the poor little incubus not find a mortal, you must be weakening in your power." She goaded. James position as one of the Original Fallen meant he was no simple sex-loving demon, but it was this insult that Molly knew would trigger something inside the old demon's head. So she just kept pushing him further and further. Until he snapped.

"Where. Is. He." James all but screamed now.

"How the mighty have fallen." She sneered, emphasising his disgraces. "You cannot find a mortal, one you crave so badly you turn to an _angel_ for help. Honestly Adramelech, will they even talk to you anymore, knowing you had to go to not only an angel but one without wings." She grinned up at him maddeningly. The brute had dislocated her shoulder and sitting like this was making her body scream with pain but the furious look in his eye told her his rage would end her soon. Good, she would be with Sherlock sooner that way.

Sherlock was missing because of the Magnussen scandal and the very public return of James Moriarty. John, Mary and baby Anna had been secreted away by Mycroft. Only Mycroft knew their trio's location, just in case Moriarty employed another woman like Adler, who could tempt information from a stray official but it would seem that Molly's safety net had fallen too late. James had managed to capture her and he was confident that Molly was the key to his Next Big Plan.

It was a shame his temper got the better of him.

"Such a creature like yourself here, bound to the mortal plane for what, a man that he cannot find, how maddening that a _mortal_ can best you. A mortal and a sub-par angel…" Her next goad was cut off by the bullet through her brain.

James looked down at the slumped body before him and scowled at his own mistake. He would never learn and now he just lost his ultimate bargaining chip. Damnation.

" _I don't want to do this anymore." Molly whined as she passed through the haze to the next life waiting for her._

" _Not long my sweet one." The voice was unexpected; the Mother had come to her personally._

" _It hurts." She felt her last mortal aches start to heal as she dragged herself through to the next body._

" _You are so close my love you can do this for us." The Mother's caress was welcome on her face and Molly closed her eyes, grit her teeth in determination and opened another set of identical mortal eyes._

* * *

A/N: Adramelech was a lucky find, he was one of Lucifer's original chums and according to wikipedia was "President of the Senate of Demons", the "Chancellor of Hell" and "in charge of Satan's wardrobe" and damn I thought it fit my idea of the snappy dressed, OCD manic James Moriarty.


	5. Finish It

A/N: Finish up! I didn't really know how to end it but I've updated the ending! If it still feels weird please tell me (nicely).

I know it's short but this entire story was a winging it, quick shot off the top of my brain, entirety written in 25 minutes story.

If it feels rushed I will endeavour to alter it, after I've slept and when I'll spot my mistakes!

* * *

"Molly what are you doing?" Sherlock's voice was hoarse but there she stood, a gun stolen from his collection was aimed at the dark haired man before her. They had met on the roof of St Barts, for old times sake.

James Moriarty didn't even bother to pretend anymore.

"She's _saving you_ Sherlock, by damning herself." He grinned at her. "The poor little angel doesn't want to see you suffer at my hands, she wants to sacrifice her soul for yours…"

"Molly, put the gun down." Sherlock whispered but Molly's eyes did not leave the demon before her.

"Adramelech…" Her voice did not waver nor did her hand shake. "You are not going to have him." She smiled serenely, making her peace with herself and the actions she was about to undertake. "You lose." She pulled the trigger aiming the bullet at the centre of the demon's forehead.

 _The whiteness that enveloped her was not what she expected._

 _Nor had she expected to see the Mother before her._

 _"You did it my darling warrior. You saved our cause on your own. You have my gratitude." The Mother bent her head in respect and then leant forward to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. "Go back, finish your time with Sherlock. Then when it is time, bring him here."_

Molly didn't know what she was expecting when she crashed back into reality, away from the Mother's presence but it wasn't to be in Sherlock's arms.

"Molly are you okay? Molly?" He was almost shaking her limp form when she took a deep shuddering breath and was dragged back into life. "Molly we have to get you away from here. Mycroft will deal with the body, I need you to be safe." Sherlock's eyes were scanning her face rapidly and she let out a soft groan.

"Sherlock?" She whined and managed to sit upright, realising she had fallen.

"Molly, you blacked out and fell after you put a 22 through Moriarty's skull." He was anxiously checking her features for signs of shock or permanent damage and held her jaw tenderly when she tried to turn to see her handiwork. "Don't look Molly. I've got you." He whispered and he pulled her upright.

He said very little and Molly was a little disoriented; how long had she been out for? What had happened to Adramelech now? What was going to happen to her? She allowed Sherlock to lead her away from the rooftop from which Sherlock had jumped previously and stayed silent as he quick fired a text while he steered her towards a cab.

Nothing was said as he reached 221b with his arm firmly around her shoulders, taking her up the stairs, waving away Mrs Hudson and seating her in _his own_ armchair. He took one look at her vacant eyes and stepped back. She raised her gaze to meet him and saw the confusion tainting his usual countenance.

"There is a lot to explain Sherlock, but I cannot explain it now. I do not have the energy." She offered quietly and Sherlock fought internally to argue with her. There was a lot, she was right, but Sherlock did not like waiting for answers, however Molly's health was important to him and she looked exhausted.

He opted, grudgingly to hold off on his intense questioning and let her sleep.

"Okay Molly, please take my bedroom to sleep in." He helped her up when it was clear she was failing rather fast and he all but carried her into his room. He went to leave but as she struggled with her bulky oversized jumper he huffed and strode back into the room. He undressed her clinically, but he noted the small pair of wings tattooed on her hip; she was not the sort to have a tattoo, he was fascinated by the small inking and ran his fingers over the image, stepping back hastily as she shivered. He went to walk back out of the room but one small hand stopped him.

Her petite fingers that wrapped around his wrist, halting him in his tracks matched with an expression that Sherlock couldn't name. He had read concealed desperation and hopeless love in Molly Hooper's face when he had caught her looking at him, but this was exhaustion, weariness and something that looked like contentment.

She had just blown apart James Moriarty's skull and yet she was content with life. There wasn't a worry mark around her eyes, nor was her forehead creased up, instead she seemed at peace with herself. It was this expression that made Sherlock join her in bed, for some unfathomable reason that no amount of logic would later smooth over, he joined her beneath his sheets and watched her sleep, completely nonplussed at the day's turn of events.


	6. But Would You Do The Same?

A/N: I know this was updated over a year ago but I felt the ending was a little weird, abrupt and kind of non-existent. So after a year I finally managed to conjure this up!

Enjoy this final epilogue as such.

* * *

For six months Sherlock had avoided her.

John had badgered him as to why he was refusing to go to St Barts but he had remained tight lipped about the events that kept him isolated from Molly.

Molly herself was angry, upset and in the end defeated. She had seen none of her kin nor the Mother since waking up in Sherlock's bed. But the absolute kicker was that she hadn't seen Sherlock either. So much for love being the greatest joy of all. She stabbed her biro angrily into the wad of paper that Mycroft had left her to sign and glared at the clock that just seemed to remind her how long it had been since she had seen those curls.

She had died for that man too many times to bear, she had dealt with one of the most powerful demons the spirit plane had ever known and _he_ refused to see her. It was maddening but she chose not to do anything about it; she would not be the first angel to mess up by falling in love with the wrong human.

So she went back to angrily signing the confidential papers that "Anthea" had dropped off for her, the papers that essentially stated that only Mycroft knew about her _condition_ , she scoffed at the word. It made her feel like she was abnormal, that she was some sort of freak.

"I wouldn't say you're a freak." A deep voice made her whirl on the chair towards the door.

"Well what other reason is there for the total avoidance of me unless you can't bear the sight of me." Molly spat and Sherlock recoiled slightly at her vitriolic tone.

"Because you challenged my very world." He said quietly. But his admission barely calmed Molly, instead she was holding back six months' worth of hurt inside her and for an angel it was a particular vicious mix.

"You were my very world." She hissed, fists clenching, nails biting into her palm to stop herself from crying. Tears were not part of this conversation she told herself ruthlessly.

"Molly, please." Sherlock's voice had a tiny of desperation now and he had stepped across the lab towards her.

"What Sherlock? I saved your life, after one of Lucifer's lot puts dibs on you. Do you know how far down the pecking order I was for the angels?! I am a shrimp compared to other greater beings that could have stepped into save you. Instead it was left to an angel that could barely grow her wings!" She was shrieking now. "My place in this mortal plane was to help the dead move on, hence why I worked in the morgue!" Sherlock had fallen silent at her tirade. "After everything I did I am shunned by not only my people but also the man I fought to save." Molly slammed her hands down on the desk, glaring at the curly haired man with such venom he almost took a step back.

"You've just told me I was marked out by a supposed devil, saved by an angel who has wings that has been working in a pathology lab and that my nemesis was in fact one of the mythological Lucifer's little gang." Sherlock stated simply. "To you, that might be totally logical because you grew up with them, but for me my world of science, logic and emotional detachment came crashing down when you blew James Moriarty's head apart on the roof of St Barts." Sherlock had held his hands up now, as if to placate the furious woman before him.

"I guess." She said sullenly.

"I am sorry I left you for so long. It just took me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that I didn't know an entire chunk of the world. I don't like not knowing important things." Sherlock muttered.

"It's as important as knowing the sun is at the centre of our solar system Sherlock." Molly tone was softer.

"It's more important, it concerns a woman I would give my life for at any given moment." Sherlock's reply made her look up startled. "Yes you heard me correctly." He hummed, hesitantly taking her hand in his. "I also had to convince Mycroft not to whisk you away for tests and interrogations." He shrugged but soothed her at the sudden fear that washed through her.

"He can't…"

"I would never let him. I also think it might have something to do with the woman that strolled into his office holding a gun to his head, threatening to 'blow his bald head clean off if he even so much as analysed a drop of Molly Hooper's blood'" Sherlock said conversationally.

"What did she look like?" Molly allowed Sherlock to pull her closer, feeling her head rest against his chest.

"I think she introduced herself as the AllMother." Sherlock had dipped his head to press a kiss to her head. "Forgive me Molly for leaving you for…"

"Forgiven." Molly hummed, revelling in the feel of Sherlock being so close. "Just don't fuck up again. There's only so much an angel can go through."

They stood like that for a long moment, caught in the embrace until she felt Sherlock's hands wandering up and down her back. "Sherlock." She muttered into his chest. "My wings won't come out that way…" She turned to look up at him.

"Will you teach me how they do work?" He looked perplexed and she had to bite back a sigh.

"Are you going to tell your brother or anyone akin to him?" Molly arched one eyebrow at the detective. He looked affronted at such a question.

"NEVER!" He was appalled she thought so little of him, but his ire did tamp down quite quickly – he was aware that Molly had had a rough year and well he should probably be delicate with her – he had read that angels were quite dainty beings.

"Sherlock, while I appreciate the attempt at being gentle, call me dainty one more time and I will hand you from the flagpole by your belt loops." She smiled up at him before pulling on his coat lapels to kiss him hard.

She took back her harsh thoughts; love was the greatest joy. She could feel her wings unfurling in excitement - much to Sherlock's shock.


End file.
